


bring your chains

by Blake



Series: 30 Days of Depeche Mode Bagginshield ficlets [14]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cottagecore, Crochet, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake
Summary: Thorin learns to crochet.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: 30 Days of Depeche Mode Bagginshield ficlets [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705147
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	bring your chains

**Author's Note:**

> This one was fun! This is all because I noticed how much knitwear Thorin's company wear and thought about how excellent dwarves probably are at crafts of all kinds. Thanks for reading!

It takes two more skeins of yarn than he would typically use for himself, but Bilbo manages to crochet a jumper for Thorin just in time for Durin’s Day. At least, he’s fairly certain it’s Durin’s Day, if his almanac of moon cycles and whatnot is correct. It’s not something celebrated by any of their neighbors in the Shire, and Thorin has remained stubbornly quiet on the subject of all things reminding him of Erebor, apparently preferring to devote himself to the arts of kissing Bilbo so thoroughly his heart stutters and inventing new uses for Bilbo’s bed.

“If you don’t like it, I promise that I will not be offended. We can put it on a scarecrow. Or use it as a dishcloth,” Bilbo proclaims before Thorin has even begun unwrapping the gift.

He’s not sure what moves him more: the happy, watery look in Thorin’s eyes when he studies the garment as though it were a valuable treasure, or the way it fits him when he puts it on. Bilbo is pleased to know he wove it broad enough in the shoulders and chest, where Thorin almost seems to shrink happily under it as though the weight of it settles on him like exhaustion. The wool must be much lighter than the fur cloaks and armors Thorin is used to standing up straight in and bearing, so it’s strange, but strangely _right_ , to see him cave in under such a homely weight, as though exhaling for the first time in a century. This Thorin reminds him of the sweaty, sated, smiling Thorin he leaves in bed sometimes just to grab a midnight snack, because certain activities which make Bilbo hungry for food seem to make his lover hungry only for cuddles and sleep.

“This is the most beautiful gift I have ever received,” Thorin avows, running his hands down his own chest. If he didn’t know Thorin better, he might doubt the sincerity of such a superlative claim, but Bilbo happens to know him quite well. A crochet jumper for a mithril shirt seems almost a fair trade when you’re in love.

Thorin wears the jumper for several days until it badly needs a wash, and then, with his soapy arms buried in the laundry tub, he asks Bilbo, “Could you teach me how to crochet?”

Bilbo tries not to laugh and very nearly fails. He pictures his tiny crochet hook in Thorin’s broad hands, and yards of yarn getting twisted in Thorin’s growing beard.

But of course, the sight of Thorin carefully crafting a perfectly even chain of crochet turns out to be quite majestic. He devotes the same precision and skill to the task as dwarves are known to do with their metalwork. He’s a craftsman-king, and the sight of him setting his hands to a task fills Bilbo with reverence. He feels rather foolish for not realizing it would be so. “That’s it,” he says, his voice empty of any real encouragement, since he feels unqualified to teach anything to this particular student. “Just like that, until the chain is as long as you want the finished product to be wide, and then two more after.”

“To weave into the next row?” Thorin guesses, apparently taking to knitwear like a duck to water.

“Yes, exactly.” Bilbo busies himself with untangling a long line of yarn to feed into Thorin’s rapidly growing project, looking for any excuse to continue sitting unnecessarily close to a dwarf so immersed in his work.

By the same time the next day, Thorin has made a beautiful green and white blanket that fits perfectly on their bed. It’s the perfect weight to sleep peacefully under, in Bilbo’s opinion, but Thorin wakes early the next morning to start crocheting some new project. It turns out to be a jumper for Bilbo, constructed in the same pattern as the one Bilbo made, but with much narrower dimensions, and colored red instead of blue. The way Thorin’s arms squeeze tightly around him when he’s wearing it makes Bilbo quite happy indeed.

After that jumper comes another, and then another, this one with playful stripes of texture across it that Bilbo can’t even imagine how to replicate. Then Thorin whittles a new crochet hook out of some firewood and makes a new jumper with a looser, more draping weave to it.

Bilbo is helpless to do anything but wear a new jumper every day and watch Thorin crochet by the fireside while snow falls gently outside. He is helpless to do anything but fall more in love each day and to wrap himself more deeply into Thorin’s affections.

One afternoon, while studying the furrow in Thorin’s brow as he focuses on his hands, Bilbo recalls a children’s tale about a princess doomed to weave and weave until some wrong was righted, some penitence reached, as though she were crafting her own atonement. He worries, for a moment, that Thorin’s new obsession indicates more than the simple joy of a pleasant pastime. 

“How are you with carpentry? We shall need a new wardrobe after all this,” he says, just to gauge for a reaction.

He’s relieved when Thorin’s face breaks into a smile and he looks up from his work, no trace of penance or magic cursing his fingers to their endless occupation. His fears assuaged, Bilbo prepares to watch Thorin crochet for a few hours more.

But Thorin sets down his work and reaches a hand out to scrape warmly in Bilbo’s hair with a sweet, amused smile pulling enticingly at his lips. “Have I been neglecting you terribly?”

And no, Bilbo is in no way jealous of the time Thorin has been spending on making gifts for him, but he is very charmed by the thought that Thorin could believe him to be so silly and still look at him with such fondness. The fingers at his scalp twist and fiddle with strings of his hair, as though they would rather be still buried in yarn.

Affecting an arch look, Bilbo pulls the hand out of his hair and attempts to flatten it to stillness, pressing it like a dried flower between his own much smaller palms. “It has been, oh, perhaps ninety minutes since you last—"

Before he can finish his sentence, Thorin’s lips claim his in a kiss as hot and comforting as a fire in winter, and few and far between are any thoughts of crochet for quite some time after that.


End file.
